Monstrosities and Misunderstandings
by ArielSakura
Summary: Harry is running Luna's Charity Shop over the holidays. Blaise lost a bet and needs to buy ugly holiday sweaters. M/M SLASH


Harry looked up from the latest issue of Quidditch Monthly as the bell attached to the door chimed, signalling a customer had entered. A man walked in, a very, extremely, too gorgeous to be real, man. His head was still angled against the driving snow from outside, so Harry couldn't identify him, but his build was very fine indeed.

The man used his wand to dispel the lingering white flakes and Harry looked him over to try and discern what this customer might want. Sometimes you could tell from a glance what a customer wanted, other times they completely surprised. The man was well dressed - as evidenced by the long, fashionable coat - and though the quality of the garment practically screamed money at those that paid any attention to such things, it wasn't flashy or pretentious. So possibly something a little obscure, but of good quality, a Christmas gift for someone, Harry decided.

The man's skin was dark and he had even darker hair. His build was tall and lithe, his movements graceful and not made without care. As the man looked up, Harry felt his breath catch. And as Harry's brain started again a thought ran through his mind, no wonder all the girls were obsessed with him at school.

Blaise Zabini made his way towards him and Harry was suddenly, mightily, grateful for counter between them. Though he couldn't say with certainty why. He watched a well-groomed eyebrow rise and it took him a moment to process what was said to him, "I hardly thought I would find you here, Potter."

"I'm not, I mean, I am, but I'm only babysitting while Luna's away," Harry explained, "Why are you here?" He asked, curious as to why a pureblood like Blaise Zabini would be in Luna's little shop of oddities. "Sorry, that was rude, I mean, what can I help you with?"

Zabini's lips twitched slightly before his nose scrunched in revulsion. "I need to purchase one of those garments you have in the window." He said gesturing to the novelty Christmas jumpers that were indeed hanging in the window.

Harry's eyes went wide as he looked between the jumpers, complete with tinsel and googly eyes and the impeccably dressed Zabini and then back again.

"Are you sure?"

Zabini sighed and rested his hip against the counter. Crossing his arms he glared distastefully at the closest jumper. A brown monstrosity with a superimposed Rudolph, a red bobble in place of his nose.

"I lost a bet," he confided to Harry, "I need to wear a different one every day."

"Who hates you that much?" Harry asked gobsmacked.

Zabini's mouth twisted wryly, "Tracey Davis."

Harry racked his brain for a moment, "Tall, brunette Slytherin girl? Used to hang out with that short, blonde one? Greengrass? D-something, Dana, Darlene-"

"Daphne," Zabini supplied to Harry's nod, "Yes, that's Tracey, are you always this terrible at remembering people or is it exclusive to Slytherin's?"

Harry scowled at him, "It's not like you lot put yourself out there and in case you don't remember I had rather a lot going on when we were at school. I consider myself lucky I even remember my dorm mates."

Zabini inclined his head, but did not verbally concede the point. Which was, refreshing, to say the least, Harry thought with a bit of wonder. "I thought you were friends?" he asked a little unsure of that fact now.

"We are," Zabini replied. "But had I won the bet, I would have certainly made her go carolling after drinking a voice deepening potion." He flashed white teeth at Harry and he couldn't help but grin back.

"Right, well, the racks right there," Harry said waving a hand at it, "they're seven sickles a piece."

Zabini seemed to steel himself as he made his way towards the rack. Gingerly using a finger to slide the hangers as he perused the selection. Obviously hoping to find one that wasn't completely hopeless. Harry wished him luck.

After a few minutes of circling the rack and Harry discreetly watching him from the corner of his eye, he sighed and returned to the counter with a dark green jumper. It was almost passable, the quality was good and so was the colour, the detractor though, was the bright red tartan sash that had been sown into the front forming a cross pattern, complete with bow.

"That's probably the best of the lot," Harry remarked mildly, peeking up at the taller man.

"Best to ease yourself into such things, I imagine," Zabini replied as he placed a galleon on the counter.

Harry went to draw the change from the till and Zabini stopped him. "This is a charity shop correct?" Harry nodded, "I don't need the change, see you tomorrow, Potter."

Harry watched him leave and then slid the ten sickles change into the little donation box that sat on the counter. Sure, Zabini was wealthy enough, if you listened to such rumours about his mother, but most people only let go of a few knuts at a time. The act brought a small smile to Harry's face as he settled back against the counter, flipping idly to the next page.

* * *

The next two weeks brought about similar exchanges, Blaise would come in and they would exchange small talk before he eventually picked out a jumper.

But as the days passed, the conversations grew longer and so did the time Blaise spent in the little shop. They would talk over tea, Harry soon baking little cakes and biscuits to bring in and share. Blaise was funny, and smart, and he didn't pay any attention to Harry's status. Their conversations were interesting and insightful and sometimes downright hilarious. Harry found himself looking forward more and more to Blaise's visits. It didn't hurt the man was easy to look at either.

But every day, Blaise left with a jumper and Harry attributed the conversations to nothing more than putting off the inevitable torture of having to wear one of those monstrosities.

Harry heard the bell chime just as he was putting the kettle on one morning, only a few days left until Christmas. "I'm making tea, would you like one?"

"Do you offer all your customers tea, Potter?" Came an unfamiliar female voice.

Harry dropped the spoonful of sugar he was holding and turned around. Two women were standing just inside the doorway. Making his way back to the counter proper, he realised who they were.

"Er, Greengrass, Davis, hi. Erm, no, not usually, no. But if you would like?" He said, conscious of how it would look if he retracted the offer now.

"Oh, go on then, and call me Tracy. No need to be all formal if we're having tea." The brunette said as they walked further into the shop. Tracey's eyes darting all over as if trying to take everything in at once.

Daphne sent her an amused look.

"Right, uh, how do you take it?"

"Two sugars, milk and cream, please!"

Harry arched his brows at her, but said nothing as he turned to Greengrass, "Tracey doesn't like to taste her tea," she said drily and Harry snorted in amusement. "Just a little honey in mine if you have it please, and call me Daphne."

He returned the sentiment, along with a short nod, and turned to fix the teas. He floated them over to the counter along with a box of biscuits and sat down on his stool, noting they had conjured their own.

"So, erm, what can I do for you?" He asked, unsure as to what they were doing here or what to talk about.

"Well, we were wondering what it is that makes Blaise spend so long here." Tracey stated, reaching for a biscuit.

"Quite," Daphne agreed, "It does seem to take him a rather long time for a simple errand."

Harry shrugged, "I think it's just because it's hard to pick a decent one out of that lot." He said nodding towards the window and Tracey cackled loudly.

"Oh yes! Some of them have been positively awful!" She exclaimed with delight.

Harry shook his head, amusement on his face at her antics. "What happened anyway? He said you're the one making him buy them?"

Tracey's grin turned positively evil and Harry found himself a bit worried. "Our darling Blaise lost a bet, for the first time ever. I had to get him back for all the humiliation he's caused me in the past!"

"What's he made you do?" Harry asked curiously.

"Oh! Loads!" Tracey exclaimed, "One time I had to dress in a tutu and imitate those trolls on the seventh floor at Hogwarts. Another time I had to get a leaf from the trunk of the whomping willow, I had to swim across the Black lake in my knickers. I had to send you a singing Valentine's in second year, I had to go into the Ravenclaw's locker room and hex their robes into Hufflepuff colours-"

"I remember that game! It was so confusing!" Harry interrupted, "Hang on, did you say you and to send me a singing Valentine? Did you send me that dwarf?"

Tracey grinned at him, "Caught that did you?"

"I think I was the one who came off worse in that bet." Harry grumbled.

Tracey was about to reply when the doorbell chimed once more.

"Blaise! Darling! Come rescue poor Harry from Tracey," Daphne called in greeting.

Blaise came forward an eyebrow raised at the two girls. Some sort of private communication was going on Harry reasoned, evident by the head tilts and narrowed gazes.

Tracey had a smirk as wide as the Sahara when Blaise looked at her.

Finally his gaze settled on Harry and a small smile graced his lips. Harry felt warm and jittery at the sight of it.

"Hello Harry." Blaise said, his rich voice sending shivers down Harry's spine as he came around the counter to stand by him.

"Erm, hello, would you like some tea?" Harry asked, no idea what to do with himself in Blaise's suddenly close presence.

Blaise nodded and Harry quickly set about making another cup.

"Oh Blaise! You must try one of these biscuits! They're simply amazing!" Tracey cried.

"Thanks," Harry said quietly as he set Blaise's tea down in front of him.

"You made these?" Daphne asked. Her eyebrows showing she was impressed.

"Er, yeah." Harry said with a shrug. "I like baking sometimes."

Tracey grabbed another a bit into it appreciatively, "You'll make someone a good wife one day, Harry."

Harry's eyes darted quickly to Blaise and then away. His cheeks going pink at the statement. In a hurry for something to do he took a big swig of his tea.

In his mild panic, he didn't notice Daphne's knowing look.

"Come on Tracey dear, we had best get going. I want to see Madame Twilfit while we're here and you know how long she takes." Daphne said as she stood up.

"What? But we-" Daphne shot her a sharp look, "Ohhh.. Riiiight.. yes, Madame Twilfit's. See you later Blaise! Lovely to see you, Harry! Thanks for the biscuits! And the tea!" She called over her shoulder, Daphne all but pushing her out the shop.

"Erm, you're friends are.. nice." Harry settled on. Weird wasn't usually a kind thing to say after all.

Blaise snorted, "If you mean interfering busybodies who have no ounce of subtlety, then yes."

"Subtlety is overrated," Harry said as he cleaned up the cups the girls had used. Honestly, he had no idea what Blaise was talking about anyway. The girls had been pretty straightforward about everything he thought. Though he didn't think they'd found out what they wanted to know.

"Is it?" Blaise asked in an interested tone. "How so?"

Harry shrugged, "I dunno, I guess it's just, if your being subtle about something how is anyone supposed to know what you mean? It's just easier to have things out on the table."

"Is that right?" Blaise asked, taking a step closer to Harry.

Harry swallowed, "Erm, yes?"

"And what would happen if everything was on the table so to speak?"

Harry swallowed again, his mouth was suddenly very dry. He couldn't focus on anything in particular, all he could see was Blaise, and Merlin the man had gorgeous eyes. What they talking about again? "Uhm, well. If everything's on the table, people can do something about, whatever it is."

"Take action, you mean? You prefer action over words?"

Harry nodded, unconscious of the fact that he was embodying the statement. Blaise smiled at him and stepped closer his face now inches from Harry's own.

"Like this?" He asked softly, his breath ghosting over Harry's face before his lips settled on Harry's.

Harry was shocked into stillness, completely dumbfounded by what was happening. But when he felt Blaise start to pull away he pressed back. Surging up onto the balls of his feet to keep the contact between them.

Blaise's chest rumbled in answer and the kiss grew firmer. Blaise's arms moving to tighten around Harry as he held them together. Harry's own hands rose to rest on Blaise's biceps and he parted his lips to pull in a sharp breath. A hand ran up his back to burrow into his hair and Blaise's tongue swept into Harry's mouth. Pulling a long moan from the shorter man. Harry responded, eagerly moving to match Blaise's motions.

Eventually they pulled apart, for no matter how strong their desire appeared to be, the need to breathe was stronger still.

Harry found he had been backed against the counter and Blaise's hands remained firmly in his hair and upon the small of his back.

"Erm," he said, eyes flicking up to look at Blaise quickly before lowering them again. Focusing on Blaise's sharp jawline to maintain some semblance of control. That didn't seem to work though, as Harry found he wanted to nuzzle it, to see if it was as sharp as it looked. Dragging his thoughts away he instead focused on Blaise's earlobe. It was a lovely. For an earlobe and Harry started thinking of what might happen should he decide to suck on it, just take it into his mouth and… He cleared his throat.

Blaise's lips quirk into a smile. "I've been wanting to do that for a while now." Blaise told him softly.

Harry looked back up, glasses sliding down his nose a little in his astonishment.

"You have?"

Blaise nodded, his nose rubbing gently along Harry's, resettling his wire-rimmed glasses into their proper position.

"For positively ages."

"Why haven't you?" Harry asked.

"I thought you weren't interested." Blaise replied. "At least, until you started flirting with me just now."

Harry frowned confused, "I wasn't flirting."

"You weren't?" Blaise asked suddenly concerned. "But the 'subtlety is overrated'-"

"Subtlety is overrated," Harry said, still confused.

Blaise quickly let go of Harry, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I thought you wanted to-, I'm sorry." He took another step back.

"Blaise-" Harry said.

"I'll just go shall I? Yes, that would be best. So sorry, I won't come back again. Goodbye Harry."

Harry stood there, still pressed against the counter wondering what the hell had just happened.

* * *

The next few days were long. Every time the doorbell jangled Harry looked up. Heart beating faster, only to sigh in disappointment. He idly spent his time flipping through magazines he'd already read and vaguely dusting. The customers only came in to purchase and didn't stop to chat as they sometimes did when he and Blaise were there sipping tea.

Flipping Quidditch Weekly shut for the third time that day, he sighed heavily again. Moodily drawing invisible lines on the countertop with his finger.

The bell rang and Harry's head flipped up once more. Hope shining in his eyes.

Only to be squashed like an ant underfoot as Tracey and Daphne walked in.

"Hullo," he greeted dully gaze dropping back to the grains in the wooden counter.

"Hullo?" Daphne sneered at him, "is that all you've got to say Potter? After what you did to Blaise?"

Harry looked back up at her. Shocked by both her scathing tone and her words.

"Now, Daphne," Tracey said, voice colder than an Arctic fox. "We agreed to hear Potter out."

"Hear me-? I didn't do anything! Is Blaise okay?" Harry asked, suddenly worried about the enigmatic man he had gotten to know over the last few weeks.

Daphne just sneered at him, it was Tracey who answered. "Blaise has been shut up in his apartment for days. Won't come out. Won't let us in. Said he's a despicable excuse for a wizard and that we should just leave him alone. We want to know what happened." With that she conjured two chairs and they sat. Evidently refusing to budge until they got what they wanted.

'Well.." Harry began slowly, "I don't really know. You guys were here and then you left and we started talking about how subtlety is overrated and then.." he trailed off, cheeks pinking as he remembered the kiss.

"What? What happened then?" Daphne demanded.

"Erm, well, hekissedme." Harry mumbled.

"How was it?" Tracey asked, eyes wide and leaning forward in her chair eagerly.

"Tracey," Daphne snapped at her. "That's not what we are here for. What happened after he kissed you?"

Harry rubbed the back of his head, "Well, we sort of talked and he said he that he wasn't sure if I like him until I started flirting with him. But I wasn't! I don't know what he meant, I still don't and I've been running it over and over in my mind." He sighed, dropping his head into his hands.

The two girls were quiet for a minute, before Daphne finally spoke. Her voice much softer this time. "Harry, I think you need to tell us what you spoke about. Exactly what you said, and exactly what he said."

Harry sighed again, "I really don't know what it has to do with anything, but sure." He recanted the conversation as best he could and the girls exchanged significant glances with each other.

"Harry, Blaise thinks he took advantage of you." Tracey told him.

"What?!" Harry exclaimed.

Daphne nodded, "It sounds like you didn't actually say you wanted him to kiss you."

"Well, I wasn't expecting him too. But I.. well.. Ididwanthimtoo," he mumbled again.

Daphne smiled encouragingly, "Yes, I rather thought you did, the way you were looking at him the other day. But you see, Harry. Blaise prides himself on being a perfect gentleman. His mother raised him to be so. When you said you weren't flirting with him, well, he would have taken that as that you didn't want to be involved with him. Not, and I'm guessing here, that you're inexperienced in such matters?" she asked delicately.

Harry flushed a deeper red, "Erm, yeah. So wait, are you saying I was flirting?"

Tracey was the one to answer him, "You weren't Harry, or you didn't mean to be at least, but such banter as you two had, the whole preferring actions over words, subtlety is overrated.. It is quite a common way of flirting. It's like saying 'kiss me' but with plausible deniability."

"Oh." was all Harry said. Stumped as to what to do now. The whole situation seemed hopelessly tangled. "Wait.. so you guys knew he liked me?"

Daphne grinned, "Nobody buys that many ugly sweaters if they don't like the person selling them."

"But that was just a bet!" Harry pointed out.

"Harry," Tracey said patiently as if she was talking to a small child, "The bet was only for a week."

Harry's jaw fell open, "Oh. Oh!" he exclaimed as everything tumbled into place. The long looks, the even longer conversations. The smiles, and the casual touching and that look in Blaise's eye. They way Harry's heart, and his soul, had fluttered when he saw Blaise. He scrambled up to his feet, "I need to go." He tore towards the rack that held all the jumpers and pulled one from it's hanger before he raced for the door. Slamming it shut behind him.

Daphne raised an amused eyebrow at a giggling Tracey and held up her hand. Slowly pulling each finger in to make a fist. As her thumb closed over, the door swung open again, a flurry of snowflakes floating in as Harry stuck his head through the door.

"Um, where does Blaise live? And can you lock up when you leave please?"

* * *

Harry knocked on the door, his heart hammering in his chest. He had thought of a million different things to say on the way over here, but they all seemed to have escaped him in this moment. Holding his breath as he heard footsteps come to the door, he waited.

Finally, Blaise's voice came filtering through the timber door. "Daph, Tracey, I've told you to bugger off. Just leave me be."

"Erm, it's me." Harry replied. "I was hoping we could talk?"

There was silence on the other side of the door for a long moment. It seemed to stretch on and on until finally, Harry heard the scrape of a lock and the door creaked open to reveal Blaise.

He looked worse than Harry had ever seen him. He was dishevelled, his hair was unkempt and he had stubble covering his cheeks. He was beautiful.

"Hullo, erm, you haven't been in for a few days, I thought you might need this?" he said, holding out the brightly bobbled jumper. The words 'Ho Ho Ho' embroidered all over it.

Blaise's lips twitched as he took in the ghastly garment in Harry's hands and he reached for the jumper.

"Er, could I- Would it be alright if I came in?" Harry asked.

Blaise met his eyes again and slowly nodded, he stood back and opened the door further, allowing Harry to step into the apartment.

It was lovely. Bright, open, with warm honey oak moldings and floors. Rugs covered the floor artistically and beautiful artworks hung on the walls. The furniture was expensive but comfortable looking and Harry was sure if he sat on the couch he would vanish into the soft cushions, never to be seen again. There was a Christmas tree in the corner, it's lights twinkling softly in the afternoon shade.

"Can I get you something? Tea? Coffee? Water?" Blaise asked politely. Setting the jumper down on a sideboard.

"Uh, tea, please." Harry replied, flustered and nervous now that he was inside. He really wasn't sure of what to do with himself.

Blaise nodded and headed for the kitchen. Harry followed him and leant against the counter as Blaise set about making the tea in opposition to their more recent interactions, in which Harry was the one to make the tea.

Once done, Blaise wordlessly directed them to the lounge room and took a seat on the lounge. Harry, utilising that trait most Gryffindors were renowned for, sat next to him.

Blaise seemed surprised at his action and Harry fiddled with the cup in his lap for something to do.

"I-"

"What can-"

They both started to speak at once and Harry reddened as they fell silent once more.

"You first," Blaise said quietly.

Harry looked up to meet his eyes and saw guarded hope. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words just stuck in his throat. Swallowing hard, he tried again. "Daphne and Tracey came to see me. They um, pointed a few things out to me and set me straight and, well, I'm really sorry to have given you the wrong impression." He saw the hope in Blaise's eyes dim and panicked as he realised what he was saying was all wrong, again. "No! That's not what I mean either! I might not have known what I was doing, but I- oh bollocks! I'm useless at this sort of thing."

He set his cup down on the table and surged forwards. Pressing his lips to Blaise's in the hope that maybe if he showed Blaise what he meant..

They were both frozen in place for a moment. And then Blaise pulled away.

Harry's heart sank, but he was determined to sort this out. Blaise had become too important to him over the last few weeks for him to allow any sort of miscommunication keep them apart.

"Harry," Blaise began softly, "Are you saying.. Would you like.." he cleared his throat. "Would you come to dinner with me?"

Harry smiled at him, "Only if it's a date. Not as friends, just so we're clear."

Blaise's entire frame relaxed as he smiled back at Harry, happiness beaming from his every pore. "Oh, undeniably a date." and with that he leant back into Harry, coaxing him into an afternoon of lazy kisses and murmured conversation.

FIN

* * *

 **AN: Don't forget to find me on fbook and on Ao3 under the same name.**  
 **(My Ao3 account also contains more works, partly because you can't post anything explicit on here, so I have some PWP stories there *winkwink* but mostly because it is infinitely easier to post on Ao3 than it is here. Sorry guys, but it's true. You'll get quicker updates on that site than this one.)**


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